


Stuck In The Middle With You

by megzseattle



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is So Done (Good Omens), Fights, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Jealous Aziraphale (Good Omens), Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), Jealousy, M/M, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22169911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megzseattle/pseuds/megzseattle
Summary: A month after the apocalyse-that-wasn't, both Crowley and Aziraphale are beyond frustrated that they still haven't moved beyond their impasse of neither of them wanting to make the first move and declare their feelings. Fortunately, Crowley has decided to do something about it. Unfortunately, Crowley has all the sense of a banana slug. (This is probably an insult to banana slugs.) Time loop hijinks ensue.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 112
Kudos: 280





	1. A Host of Bad Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley forms a plan to get his angel to stop dithering. It has some unexpected results, but a creative demon can fix anything, right?

It was three weeks after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, and Crowley woke up aware of two very important things: one, the sun was shining directly in his face, which wasn’t supposed to happen in his dark and gloomy bedroom, and two, he was intensely frustrated with the situation between him and his angel. 

He cracked an eye open and took a look around to see what had caused the sunlight problem, and noted that one of his curtain rods has somehow fallen in the night, bringing one side of the dark gray velvet curtains down and allowing the atrocity of morning sunlight to shine in on him at seven thirty in the bloody morning. This was wrong. Crowley preferred to sleep in complete darkness until at least noon. He threw back the black comforter and stomped over to peer at the empty screw holes in the wall, and then snapped it all back in place with a quick round of hellish power. Then, just for effect, he threatened the offending curtain rod with all the curses he could think of if it ever had the temerity to do so again. 

That settled, he stalked out to the kitchen to magic himself up a cappuccino and think about his second problem. Namely, Aziraphale. 

It had been nearly a month since the events at Tadfield Air Base, since their kidnappings and narrow escape from the respective forces of Above and Below. They were free, independent, on their own side for the first time in millennia. Problem was, Crowley had thought that On Their Own Side would mean an end to six millennia of dithering about whether they did or didn’t have feelings for each other. Because he absolutely did. And he was nearly sure the angel harbored feelings at well. But the angel – despite no longer needing to be afraid – continued to equivocate. He was absolutely, positively, dithering full speed ahead. 

Nothing, essentially, had changed. 

Sure, they saw each other much more, and they didn’t have to skulk around using their various hidden meeting points around town anymore. They had lunches that turned into dinners and met for breakfast and took walks and managed to spend as much time together as they could – but still, Aziraphale was keeping his distance, emotionally. He kept his hands primly folded and his gazes lowered and his feelings to himself. 

It was driving Crowley stark, raving mad. And today, he’d decided, was the day it was going to change, no matter what it took. He’d been researching, watching lots and lots of romantic movies and noting what always brought the leads together in the end. He’d been collating and cross referencing and considering what he’d learned and what he knew about his angel. In the end, he decided, it all came down to one thing: a rival.

With a grim smile, the demon pulled out his phone and began to finalize his plans. 

\--

Aziraphale finished his entries in the ledger for the month and put down his fountain pen with a contented sigh. There was nothing quite as satisfying as finishing a ledger and seeing all the neat numbers, handwritten in crisp black ink, marching neatly down the page in their tidy columns. He blew on the ink to ensure it was dry, and then eased the book closed and back onto the top shelf of the desk. Then he sat back and let his mind drift for a moment, and of course, it drifted to the Crowley problem. 

Aziraphale was frustrated. It had been nearly a month and the demon seemed no closer than ever to indicating if he had any romantic interest in him or not. Sure they were spending more time together, and they were much less paranoid about being seen together, but so far all of his attempts to signal interest – by feathering his nest, so to speak, making things as comfortable as he could for Crowley, lingering near and batting his eyelashes, leaning in and giving him what he thought of as his special Crowley smile – had fallen short. 

He wondered, perhaps, if he had misjudged Crowley’s interest all along. The thought petrified him. The last thing he wanted to do, now that they finally had peace, was to push the demon away by nudging him for a romantic commitment that he had no real interest in. And so he held himself back, watching and waiting, hoping that things might become clear with time. 

The bell over the bookshop door jingled and he knew without looking that it was the demon in question. 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley called out as he came strolling into the office. “You back here?” 

Aziraphale smiled as Crowley flopped down onto the couch. “You look nice today – is that a new shirt?” the angel asked, eyeing the demon closely. 

“I do that from time to time,” Crowley said as he settled even further into a sprawl. “Got anything to drink around here?”

Aziraphale gave him one last perusal and headed off to the kitchen to make some tea, adding a good dollop of whiskey to Crowley’s, before heading back and settling down on the other end of the couch.

Crowley took an exploratory sip, grunted appreciatively and then downed half of the cup in a single swallow. “So angel, did you hear that the pub down the street is changing owners again?”

“The good pub or the bad pub?”

“The bad one. Switching hands.”

“Oh really?” Aziraphale said with interest. “Well one can only hope that perhaps there will be a resulting increase in the quality of their –"

He was cut off by the tinkle of the front door yet again. Aziraphale looked up in annoyance. 

“Oh good lord,” he said bitterly. “Customers. Did I forget to turn the sign to closed?” 

Crowley sat suddenly upright, catching a glimpse of someone through the stacks behind them. “Oh no, angel, that’s not really a customer – this one’s mine. New friend – I invited him to come see the shop.”

As Crowley got up to go greet the newcomer, Aziraphale took a moment to examine the man. Their visitor was younger than them, in his late 20s perhaps, with the moderate, wiry build of someone who worked out regularly. He wore sharply creased, high-end jeans with a button down shirt and a slim cut black blazer. His dark hair was cut short and swept back away from his chiseled face where dark brown eyes looked around, taking the shop in. He was, in a word, quite handsome. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley called as he turned back towards the office, “come meet Kevin.” 

Aziraphale plastered on a smile and went over to shake hands with Crowley’s new friend. “Welcome, Kevin,” he said with warmth but a slight tinge of reserve to his voice. “How do you two know each other?”

“Oh, we met at the pub the other night,” Crowley said. “Night you were busy with the taxes, I think. Ended up having a few drinks and it turns out Kevin here has quite a love of books. I told him to drop by and have a look next time he was in Soho.” 

Aziraphale made as a good host should and offered his new acquaintance a tour, showing him the highlights of his collection. To his credit, Kevin made intelligent comments and seemed to know his first editions. The angel had to admit he was quite personable. 

“Have a seat, I’ll go get some tea,” Aziraphale said, heading off to the back room. He spent a few minutes thinking while he put a tea tray together. It wasn’t like Crowley to invite people around to his shop – he couldn’t think of it happening more than once or twice in the last two hundred years, and when it had, it was usually someone he thought Aziraphale needed to know, not someone he’d been off drinking with. Nonetheless, he told himself, no point in being a ninny about these things; there was no reason Crowley couldn’t make a new friend, and perhaps he was introducing him to Aziraphale so that he’d realize there was nothing to worry about.

When he came back out with the tea, however, he found Crowley and Kevin sitting just a little too close together on the sofa, with Crowley leaning in towards the young man to mumble something in a low voice that made him laugh. 

He had, Aziraphale noted, a lovely laugh.

If he put down the tea tray a little too firmly, he was able to play it off as a bit of momentary clumsiness, nothing more. 

Aziraphale tried to join in the general conversation and Kevin did make a point of nicely attempting to include him, but he couldn’t help but notice that, mostly, Kevin and Crowley wanted to talk to each other. They were laughing and chatting about various people at the pub and some kind of hilarious hijinks that took place there. They gamely tried to explain it to Aziraphale, but it really turned out to be one of those ‘you-had-to-be-there’ moments. 

The angel tuned out a bit and instead sat back and examined them both a little more closely. Was there a bit more of a sparkle in Crowley’s eye than usual? He seemed … almost flushed. Unusually attentive to what the human was saying. From his perch across the room, Aziraphale didn’t see what was so fascinating about Kevin’s conversation. He was funny but not exactly witty. He was attractive, but in an obvious sort of way. He was smart, but not brilliant. Aziraphale sniffed a little in disdain.

And as for Kevin – it was obvious to see that he was quite smitten with the demon next to him. Everything about his body language shouted it – the slight lean, the hand that hovered near his shoulder on the back of the couch, the ready and eager way he laughed at everything Crowley said. The slightly too-long eye contact whenever possible. It was obvious and overblown and he couldn’t believe Crowley was falling for it. 

What on earth was going on? Aziraphale eventually excused himself and went to his desk to shuffle papers. Neither of his companions appeared to notice. 

After another twenty minutes of conversation, Kevin finally got up to excuse himself. 

“I’m co-hosting a party tonight at a flat in Chelsea,” Kevin said. “The owner is an old friend of mine and he’s recently sold the place, so we’re having a farewell bash before he hands it over. You should both come! Be my guests.” 

Aziraphale knew Crowley hated parties, so he immediately started formulating a polite refusal for both of them. 

“Thank you but I’m not sure if we will be able to –"

“We’d love to,” Crowley said, not even seeming to hear the angel. “See you there.”

He didn’t seem to notice Aziraphale staring at him in surprise. 

\-- 

“Well he seems lovely,” Aziraphale said after the door had shut behind him. “New friend, then?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Crowley said as he walked around restlessly, touching various knick-knacks and removing and replacing various volumes. “He seemed nice. Thought maybe it would be a good time to broaden our circle a little bit. Try out something new.”

Since when do you like nice? Aziraphale thought. Since when do we have a circle? 

He couldn’t decide if Crowley was interested in the newcomer himself or if he was trying to set Aziraphale up with him, but either way it appeared to be bad news.

\--

Crowley headed home and pulled out his phone to text Kevin. 

_Good work,_ he wrote. _I think he’s getting a little jealous. We will up the ante tonight as discussed._

A second later, there was a ding for an incoming message. 

_You bet boss. What do you want me to do, exactly?_

Crowley thought for a moment and then wrote back. 

_Let’s play it by ear, but definitely include some dancing and maybe a snog or two if the moment seems right._

_You got it._

Crowley sprawled down on the couch and snapped his fingers to turn on the television and tried to find a nice sitcom to relax with. A moment later his phone buzzed again. 

_Wear something cute._

He rolled his eyes. Actors. Always so dramatic. 

\--

When Crowley swung by to pick him up for the party, Aziraphale immediately noted that the demon was dressed with a bit more care than usual. He appeared to have fixed his hair differently, and he was smelled strange.

The angel sniffed. “And are you wearing cologne?” 

Crowley flapped a hand at him in dismissal. “I wear cologne sometimes. It’s not unheard of.” 

“Yes it is.”

“Oh, come on, now, I’m sure I’ve worn cologne from time to time. You just don’t notice because your head is always, I dunno, in a book or something.” 

Aziraphale stared at him. 

“Do you… not like it?” 

“No, it’s nice, actually. Very much you.” 

Crowley grinned and started the car. “There you go, then. Now enough about my grooming habits. Tell me about your day.”

\--

The party was in full swing when they arrived, and for a while everything appeared to be fine. Crowley found them both a drink and a few nibbles, and they hung out on the periphery of the crowd while the demon made amusing comments about people’s choice of outfits and the angel spun tales about various assignations that they imagined were happening between various partygoers – standard party behavior for them. If Crowley seemed a little distracted, that could be for any reason. 

That all changed when Kevin found them. Oh sure, he made polite conversation with Aziraphale, but it was obvious that he had a particular interest in a certain redhead and was only including the angel to be nice. Aziraphale half expected Crowley to be completely oblivious to this fact, as he often had proved to be in the past, but to his surprise his friend appeared to be reciprocating the feeling. They were certainly quick to laugh at each other’s witty comments, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was some degree of mirroring going on in their body language. Aziraphale had read enough psychology to know that was a sure sign of mutual interest. 

When Kevin laid a hand on Crowley’s arm and Crowley didn’t immediately shrug him off, Aziraphale knew he needed to take a short break. 

“I’ll just freshen up our drinks, shall I?” he said, a tad peevishly, plucking Crowley’s now empty martini glass from his hand and heading off to the makeshift bar to get them refilled. There was a bit of a wait, and by the time he returned to their spot by the staircase with two fresh vodka martinis, Crowley was nowhere to be found. 

Aziraphale frowned and made quick work of one of the two drinks, then headed into the fray to see what had become of his companion. 

\--

It seemed to be rather fun party, or so Crowley thought as he watched Aziraphale head off to the bar. As soon as he left, Kevin turned to him and grinned conspiratorially. 

“Is it working?” he asked, eyeing the angel’s retreating back in a meaningful way. 

“I think so,” Crowley said. “He certainly seems to be a little bothered.” 

“Should we up the ante a little bit?” Kevin suggested. “Maybe disappear for a bit and see what he thinks of that?”

Crowley frowned. He didn’t want to tick off the angel; it was a fine line between making him realize what he was missing and actually making him angry. He took a moment to examine his qualms, and then took another to examine how entirely sick he was of six thousand years of ambiguity. Clearly showering the angel with love and attention and patience was never going to work. A spike of frustration bit into him and he shoved down his already admittedly-weak misgivings.

“Let’s do it,” Crowley said. “It’s now or never.”

Kevin held out his hand and, without hesitation, Crowley took it and followed him into the crowded main room. 

\--

They were _dancing_. 

Aziraphale stood there, holding the second martini, and watched Crowley and Kevin swaying together to the beat of – what was it, bebop? He supposed so. He didn’t know Crowley liked to dance. He especially didn’t know Crowley liked to dance with _humans_. What was it about this stranger that Crowley found so enticing? He was _human_ , a mayfly in their world, a spark that would snuff out quickly. Aziraphale had had his share of minor dalliances over the centuries, but Crowley had always seemed somewhat immune to them. And he’d never done so when Crowley was around, only when he was called away for long periods of time. 

The angel took another sip and indulged in a moment of resentment. Crowley was – Crowley was – showing poor manners, he thought to himself, to flaunt this flirtation in front of him like this. They were supposed to be on their own side now, and he’d forgotten all about him after a mere month? How dare he. The least he could do is be discreet. It was obvious, after all, that the angel had been pining after him for some time. 

He continued to glare and drink until suddenly the second martini was empty as well. 

Well that problem, at least, was easily fixed. 

\--

Crowley saw Aziraphale glaring at him from the other side of the dance floor, and he felt a twinge of unease. Perhaps this was taking things a little far? He caught Kevin’s eye and found the actor studying him. 

“Now, now,” Kevin said. “Have courage. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” 

Crowley shrugged. “Don’t want to make him mad, necessarily. Just – wake him up. You know. Make him snap out of this fog of indecision.”

“I think it’s working,” Kevin said. “I think one more push will do it.”

Crowley smiled at him. “You take your work seriously.” 

“Hard not to, when you’re paying as handsomely as you are. And by the way, I can see what you see in him. He’s adorable.” 

Crowley frowned. “You’re here to make him jealous, not me, remember that.” 

Kevin grinned but did not comment. He did, however, slide a hand down onto Crowley’s arse. 

\--

Aziraphale came back with a large glass of Chablis and scanned the crowd trying to find the demon and his new friend, but they weren’t anywhere to be found in the crowd of dancers. He sighed and scanned the rest of the room to see where they might have gone. Surely not up the stairs – even his demon wouldn’t be that forward. Instead he made his way to the back of the house, out through the mud room, and into the small back garden, which was dimly lit by fairy lights. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust, but when he did, he sucked his breath in in surprise at the sight awaiting him.  
Crowley. His Crowley. Was kissing another man. 

Until now, Aziraphale thought the phrase “seeing red” was just a rather poetic turn of phrase, but now – now he understood. 

His vision clouded over and his head filled up with a loud buzzing, and before he knew what he was doing he had chucked his wine glass at the nearby fence, where it exploded with a bang. 

He was somewhat satisfied to see both Crowley and Kevin jump, before they both turned to stare at him noncomprehendingly. And then, mystifyingly enough, Kevin laughed. He turned and gave Crowley one last peck on the cheek, mumbled something and stepped away. He edged around Aziraphale and slipped back into the house. 

\--

“I think it worked,” Kevin whispered to Crowley sotto voce, pressing one last peck on his cheek. “Enjoy!” 

Crowley hardly noticed as the younger man disappeared. His attention was completely and utterly taken up with the look of nearly incandescent rage on the angel’s face. He hadn’t been expecting that, to be honest. He thought the angel might be annoyed, perhaps aggravated. In his happier fantasies of this moment, he’d imagined the angel might suddenly push in, take over the canoodling himself and he’d end up being pressed up against the shed wall by Aziraphale instead of Kevin. 

He hadn’t anticipated _this_. The angel, who had clearly had several drinks since he’d seen him last, looked like he was close to crossing the line between angry and outright wrath. Angry was fine, Crowley could handle angry. But wrath? Wrath was something else all together. No demon in his right mind would want to stand his ground in front of a wrathful angel. His hands twitched with the sudden desire to miracle himself a safe distance away. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, “calm down.” 

This was apparently the wrong thing to say. 

“Calm down?” Aziraphale shouted. “Calm down? Why should I calm down? Who is this Kevin person and what on earth are you doing snogging him in the back garden? Since when do you snog humans?”

Crowley swallowed. “He’s just a guy I met, no one important –”

It looked for a moment like Aziraphale’s eyes might pop out of his head. “Oh! Well I’m so glad to hear that he’s no one important, Crowley. That makes this all so much better.” His tone, dripping with sarcasm and primness, was incredibly unpleasant. “I suppose that’s why you invited him over to my shop and then abandoned me at the party to stick your tongue down his throat.”

Crowley blinked. Aziraphale never spoke this crassly. In spite of his best intentions and careful plans, he found himself getting a little irritated back. 

_Cool it, demon_ , his more rational half said to him. _Don’t argue back._

 _Fuck that_ , said his darker side. _He doesn’t get to talk to you this way._

It was somewhat inevitable that the demonic advice won. 

“It’s none of your bloody business what I do with my tongue, is it?” he snapped. “Since you don’t have any designs on it yourself, I can’t see what business you have commenting on it. God forbid anyone should show an interest in me, angel.” 

Aziraphale’s face turned even brighter red, and for a second, Crowley worried about his blood pressure before remembering that he essentially had none to worry about. “Oh, so is that what you need? Someone to show a little interest? Well fine. Enjoy your new paramour, Crowley. I’m done waiting around for you.” 

He turned to stalk back into the house, stopping on the way to irritatedly snap the broken wine glass into shape. Even an angry bastard Aziraphale wouldn’t want someone else to walk across the broken shards and get injured. 

“What the actual fuck?” Crowley shouted to the empty garden around him. “Waiting around for me? What in the bloody hell?”

If anyone had been waiting and pining and agonizing, Crowley thought, it had surely been him. 

He felt, rather than saw, a zap of angelic power as Aziraphale miracled himself back to the bookshop, and then he had the alarming sensation of feeling the subtle link between them, the connection that allowed him to always know where Aziraphale was and generally how he was feeling, get turned off. He didn’t actually know that was possible, to turn it off. It was like the angel slapped up a big concrete wall between them, psychically. He pushed at it and found it impenetrable.

No no no no no. This was not good. Aziraphale in this kind of a snit could stay mad for decades at a time. He hadn’t seen him this angry since the holy water debacle. This was _not_ the outcome he was going for. 

_Think,_ he said, pacing around the garden. _Think. You’ve got to fix this and fix it now._

What he needed, he thought, was a do-over. He needed to start this night over and correct his mistakes, get a different outcome. He’d pushed a little too hard, been a little less than subtle. He could do better. He just needed to try again. Stop Kevin from laughing, perhaps. He had a sense that it was the laughter that really pushed him over the edge. 

Crowley froze as a thought occurred to him, a thought that was either stupidly brilliant or brilliantly stupid – he couldn’t tell which and honestly didn’t stop to care. 

He could stop time; he’d done it before, at the Tadfield air base. He’d taken them both outside of time completely, created a whole pocket of time and space just for them. It’d taken an immense outpouring of energy, but he’d done it. He didn’t know of any other demon at his level who’d ever done such a thing. It made him feel like perhaps his lifetime suspicion of being unusually talented might be correct. 

And if he could do _that_ , he thought, perhaps he could do something more subtle. Create a small loop. Take them both back to this morning. Start it all over again. 

He ignored a plethora of warning bells ringing in his head, the voices of both his angelic and demonic conscience urging him to discard that thought entirely, and never entertain it again. He ignored them because he was Anthony Freaking Crowley and he could not only only stop time, he could bend it. 

He closed his eyes, gathered all of his energy into a tight ball at his core, and PULLED with all of his might and will.

The world around him stuttered to a halt, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is nearly finished and will be along shortly! Thank you so much for reading - my friend Zeckarin and I are both writing loop stories in honor of upcoming Groundhog's day and inspired by the movie of the same name. I hope you will enjoy the ride!


	2. A Host of Bad Ideas, Replay #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley makes some changes to his original plan. There will be no snogging of any kind this time. That will fix everything, right?

Crowley woke up the next morning to discover two things: one, the sun was in his eyes, which wasn’t supposed to happen in his dark and gloomy bedroom, and two, he had a vague feeling that there was something very important he needed to remember. 

The sun took first precedence. He cracked open an eye and found that the curtain rod had fallen loose on one side. Again. He hopped out of bed with a scowl and headed over to examine it. 

“Did all of my curses mean nothing to you?” he shouted at it, while putting it back into place and sending the whole room into darkness. Then he headed out to make himself a cappuccino and check the date and time on his phone. 

Wait just a bloody freaking minute. 

The memory of last night came back in a flood and he was hit with a cold sweat. Did it work? Had he bent time? Did the world around him still exist and did everything seem to be all right? 

He grabbed his phone and checked the date and found that it was, indeed, the day before all over again. Then, in a bit of a panic, he picked it up and dialed Aziraphale. 

“Hello, A.Z. Fell Books. How may I help you?”

“Are you all right, angel?” Crowley snapped. “Everything good?”

“Yes,” the angel said slowly. “Why? Has something happened?”

“No, no,” Crowley said, backpedaling. “Nothing. Just… I don’t know. Had a bad dream. I’ll see you later this morning, drop by before lunch. Ciao!” 

He disconnected and stared at his phone. Aziraphale was speaking to him, which seemed to indicate that the loop had worked, and he sounded like himself. So far so good. Now to check on the outside world. He looked nervously out one of the windows in his plant room. Down on the street, the usual London traffic of cars and pedestrians seemed to be going about their business in a normal sort of way.  
The sun was shining. No one was screaming or bleeding copiously or wandering around trying to eat brains. 

It appeared, just possibly, that he was, in fact, a genius. 

He picked up the phone again and sent a quick text to the actor he’d hired to help him with Aziraphale. 

_You available to meet me at the bookshop, like we discussed?_

_You got it, what time?_

_Come by at noon. Wear something attractive._

_Look cute. Hang on your every word. Got it._

Crowley thumbed his phone off and made himself the first of several espressos while he thought about his plan for the day. 

\--

He went by the bookstore a little early, and unlike the day before, he walked, partly because he needed to calm down and partly because he just wanted to take a better look around and make sure nothing had gone wrong. The walk from Mayfair to Soho only took fifteen minutes. Despite his remaining fit of nerves, nothing at all appeared to be wrong with the world. He broke from yesterday’s routine to stop in a bakery and pick up two French pastries before he got to the bookshop. 

The bell over the shop door jingled as he entered, and he caught sight of Aziraphale sitting at his desk looking entirely too happy about a pile of ledgers in front of him. Honestly, who enjoyed ledgers as much as his angel did? What an ineffable dork. 

“Ah, Crowley!” The angel smiled and put down his pen. “You’re a bit early! What a nice surprise.” 

Crowley grinned and waved the bag. “I’ve got pastries if you’ve got wine! Couldn’t resist.” 

Aziraphale immediately headed off to the back room to pick out a nice vintage that would go well with carbohydrates and sugar. 

\--

Ah good, thought the angel, gifts. Gifts were always a good sign. And if he wasn’t mistaken, wasn’t the demon wearing a new shirt? Perhaps Crowley had gussied himself up for him. That couldn’t help but bode well for getting through this impasse keeping them apart. He gave a little wiggle as he selected two glasses and a nice Chenin Blanc and headed back. 

He took the bag from the demon and divvied up the pastries so they could each have a piece of both, then handed across a glass of the wine, which had a lovely yellow-green tint in the late morning sun filtering in the window. The demon took an exploratory sip, grunted appreciatively, and then downed half of it in a single swallow. 

“So why did you call me this morning, really?” Aziraphale said lightly, trying to hide his concern.

“Oh,” Crowley said, thinking fast. “Had a… had a dream. That we’d had a big fight. Like a big one. Couldn’t remember for a minute if it had really happened or not.” 

This had the advantage of being nearly true, which was always a plus when one was lying. 

“Ah,” Aziraphale said, examining the demon, who still appeared a little twitchy. He shrugged mentally and decided to let it go. “Well, unless you’ve wiped my memory, I think we can say you’re safe for now. No fight. Not angry in the least.” 

Crowley finished his glass and poured another. “So, angel, did you hear that the pub down the street is changing owners again?”

“The good pub or the bad pub?”

“The bad one. Switching hands.”

“Oh really?” Aziraphale said with interest. “Well one can only hope that perhaps there will be a resulting increase in the quality of their –"

He was cut off by the tinkle of the front door yet again. Aziraphale looked up in annoyance. 

“Oh, good lord,” he said bitterly. “Customers. Did I forget to turn the sign to closed?” 

\--

Crowley watched with interest as Aziraphale sized up the newcomer. Of course, the angel plastered on a smile and tried to be a polite host, but he could tell from the slight tightness at the corner of his mouth that Aziraphale wasn’t really pleased to do so. He stood back and watched as Kevin trailed the angel around the bookstore, making the occasional comment on a book and showing appropriate respect for first editions by refusing to touch them directly. Thank blazes for that, as he’d hate to have to defend him against the angel’s bodily wrath if he got that wrong. 

“…and anyway, that’s how I acquired my first three Oscar Wilde first editions,” he heard Aziraphale say as they finished the tour. 

Crowley groaned quietly. Aziraphale was definitely not pleased if he was bringing up Oscar Wilde. He only did that when he wanted to needle Crowley in retaliation for something. The angel went off to get tea, and Crowley grinned at Kevin and patted the couch next to him in invitation.

“Might as well make it look good,” Crowley said, as the actor sat down right next to him. 

“Oh, believe me, it’s my pleasure.” 

Kevin, Crowley noted, was something of a flirt. As if he hadn’t already known that; they’d met because Kevin kept shooting him obvious come-hither looks across the café where they were both reading the paper. After he’d firmly disabused the young man of the idea that he was even remotely interested, they’d started talking and Crowley had found him to be a decent guy – a struggling actor looking for work, and more than happy when he proposed this little freelance project. Flirt and get paid for it? Why the heck not?

Aziraphale came back with the tea tray and slapped it down on the table a little harder than he should have, and while Crowley pretended not to notice, he most certainly did. It was working. Aziraphale was jealous. Aziraphale _cared_. He leaned forward and laid a hand on Kevin’s shoulder for a moment, then served him a cup of tea, just to dig it in a little further. 

_This part was fine,_ he thought. _Whatever had gone wrong had gone wrong at the party, not here. So just stick to the course for now._

Eventually Kevin got up to leave, and as he walked to the door he stopped suddenly as if just struck by the thought of inviting the two of them to his friend’s party that night. Crowley watched Aziraphale’s mental wheels turn as he tried to come up with a quick but believable excuse, then he cut in. 

“Of course, we’ll come! We’d love to. See you there around eight?” 

Kevin gave him one last wink as he exited. 

\--

Crowley headed home and pulled out his phone to text Kevin. 

_Good work,_ he wrote. _I think he’s getting a little jealous. We will up the ante tonight as discussed._

A second later, there was a ding for an incoming message. 

_You bet boss. What do you want me to do, exactly?_

Crowley thought for a moment and then wrote back. 

_Let’s be a little mysterious. Play up the dancing a bit. You can be handsy if you want but let’s avoid outright snogging. I don’t want to make him too angry._

_You got it._

Crowley sprawled down on the couch and snapped his fingers to turn on the television and tried to find a nice sitcom to relax with. A moment later his phone buzzed again. 

_Wear something cute. ;)_

He rolled his eyes. Actors. Always so dramatic. 

__

Crowley scoped out the party when they entered and tried to find the most suitable spot for the evening’s events to play out. The base of the staircase to the upper floor had worked well yesterday, but today he moved them into the living room near the hearth. A small fire was crackling in it. Fires were romantic, plus his snake-self appreciated the warmth. Check, check, and check. He snagged them two flutes of champagne from a passing tray and they settled in, watching the group, commenting on the appetizers, and making amusing little comments to each other. 

“Ah, there you are,” a voice said a short while later, “the handsomest man at the party.”

Kevin. Crowley smiled as he turned. 

“And Aziraphale,” Kevin added, as an afterthought. Aziraphale returned the smile with a bit of tight-lipped attitude. “What’re you drinking? I hope it’s alcoholic.” 

Crowley waved a hand and somehow came up with one more glass, which he handed to Kevin. 

“Cheers!” Kevin said, clinking glasses with Crowley first, then Aziraphale. 

Crowley, feeling expansive, slung an arm around both of them and pulled them to his side as he made some kind of bon mot about the dancers cavorting in front of them. Aziraphale didn’t seem to even hear him, just stared out into the room with a glazed expression. 

“You wanna dance?” Crowley asked Kevin. He turned to Aziraphale. “You don’t mind, do you? I know you don’t like to…”

Aziraphale shrugged his assent and the demon pulled his new friend out onto the floor. 

\--

Aziraphale sipped his drink down and then found another, as he tried to keep an eye on what was happening with Crowley. Maddeningly, the couple stayed mostly hidden in the middle of the crowd. He could see them here and there – a flash of two heads close together, a quick image of a hand stroking Crowley’s back, a momentary glimpse of the demon laughing. Aziraphale found himself grinding his teeth together in irritation and, also, feeling somewhat hurt. Why had Crowley brought him here if all he intended to do was make the moves on another man? Was this a game? It seemed deeply insensitive and very much unlike him. 

After another fifteen interminable minutes, the two of them came tumbling back to the sidelines, sweaty and disheveled, and picked up their glasses from where they’d placed them on the mantle. They drained them quickly as they caught their breath.

“We seem to be out of bubbly,” Kevin observed. 

“I’ll get more,” Aziraphale said resignedly, but Crowley reached out a hand to stop him. 

“No, it’s okay, angel,” he said. “I’ll go.” He plucked the empty glasses from all three of their hands and wound his way through the writhing horde of people, making his way into the kitchen.

\--

Kevin smiled gamely at Aziraphale to break the awkward silence they found themselves in. “Having a good time?”

Aziraphale shrugged noncommittally. “You certainly seem to be,” he said, a tad archly.

“I am, thanks!” Kevin said. “Your friend is a lot of fun.” 

“That he is,” Aziraphale muttered. “A laugh a minute.”

Kevin eyed him for a moment, as if making a decision. “Do you know, is he seeing anyone?”

It was honestly more than could be borne, Aziraphale thought. He was supposed to give dating advice to his rival? 

“He’s a demon, you know,” Aziraphale snapped, in desperation. 

Kevin lifted an eyebrow and appeared intrigued. “Oh, a bit of a bad boy, eh? I don’t mind that.”

“No, not ‘a bit of’ anything. He’s actually a demon. Literally.” Part of Aziraphale’s brain railed at him, completely shocked that he would just spill the demon’s secrets like this.

Crowley chose that moment to show up with three drinks precariously balanced in his hands. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked as he handed each of them a glass of champagne. 

“Aziraphale here was just telling me what a handful you are. A demon, he called you.”

Crowley turned and gave Aziraphale a withering look. “Oh, he did, did he?” 

Aziraphale turned quite red and examined his glass closely. “Well you _are_ a handful. More than a handful. I was just trying to warn him.” 

Crowley got that ‘you are in so much trouble but I’m going to play along’ grin on his face and pulled Aziraphale in for a quick, rather hostile, one armed hug. “Aw, thank you, angel,” he said, voice syrupy, “but you don’t need to worry about Kevin! He’s a big boy.” 

Crowley released him so suddenly that the angel almost stumbled.

“That I am,” Kevin said lasciviously, reaching out a hand to trace down Crowley’s forearm. 

“You two are just perfect together. Enjoy yourselves.” Aziraphale said, stalking off through the crowd towards the kitchen. 

\--

Crowley found him a short while later in the backyard, sitting dejectedly on a bench near the shed. He had a bottle of champagne and was alternating taking swigs directly from it with talking to a rather unruly patch of petunias nearby. He felt a pang of regret as he took in his dejected posture. He hadn’t meant to make him feel this bad. He hadn’t meant to make him feel bad at all – just… just jealous! Jealous wasn’t bad, it was bloody useful. 

“You ok, there, angel?” Crowley said, sitting down tentatively next to him. 

“You don’t need to be out here with me, Crowley,” Aziraphale said quietly. “I understand.”

Crowley frowned. “You understand what?” 

“I understand that you want to be with Kevin right now,” the angel said, his voice devoid of passion. “Of course you do. He’s funny, he’s attractive. He even likes books. He’s a good dancer. He doesn’t call anything bebop.” 

“Angel, you know I don’t care about any of that,” Crowley said, reaching out to touch the angel’s shoulder, a lump in his throat.

Aziraphale shot up off the bench like he’d been burned. He stood with his back to Crowley for a moment and then straightened his waistcoat and cuffs and turned slowly, holding his hands out in front of him like he was trying to stop a runaway horse. 

“Please – please don’t,” he said, his calm demeanor cracking to show a deeper level of upset beneath than Crowley had sensed before. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you not to toy with me any further tonight, Crowley.”

“I’m not toying with –”

“You are,” Aziraphale said. “You know you are. Why did you even want me here? Why did you bring Kevin to the shop and then drag me here to watch you pursue him?”

 _Oh fuck,_ Crowley thought, his cheeks burning a little, _he’s figured it out._

“I know your intentions weren’t malicious, but it’s quite cruel of you to – to make me _watch_ as you realize you’ve lost interest in me and found someone else.”

“Lost interest – Aziraphale, what? Slow down a minute –”

Aziraphale shushed him. He literally shushed him. “No, Crowley, this is hard to say, and I must insist that you let me get it out.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve come to a realization. I’m holding you back, and clearly you need something more than what you can find in my company –”

“Angel, don’t be ridiculous, I don’t---”

“BE QUIET!” Aziraphale thundered. 

They both looked at each other in shock while the air around them seemed to reverberate with the force of the statement. 

Aziraphale rather painfully gathered himself, and settled into a soft, sad smile. “You’re my friend and always will be, Crowley. But I’m stepping aside. Your interests lie elsewhere, and I won’t come between you and the chance to find happiness and companionship.” 

Crowley goggled at him in utter shock, unable to even process what was happening. “Are you – are you breaking up with me?”

Aziraphale huffed out a pained laugh, but his voice was kind when he spoke. “We can’t break up, dear, if we aren’t together. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the shop.” He reached out as if he wanted to take Crowley’s hand, then changed his mind and let his arm fall forlornly to his side. “I’m going to be out of town for a few weeks on a book collecting mission; I’ve been sitting on some negotiations that need attention for far too long. I’ll see you when I get back. We can have lunch.” 

And with a sudden tingle of angelic energy, the angel disappeared. 

“Oh FUCK!” Crowley shouted at the moon. “How in the bloody hell did this go wrong again?”

He dropped his head into his hands and indulged in a moment or two of overwhelming guilt. He was a bloody idiot. In his attempt to make it better by not kissing Kevin, he’d just made it worse. Now Aziraphale was hurt and sad and nobly stepping aside for his happiness. Bloody pestilent bollocks, he was a moron. 

He reached out to feel for the angel and once again found a strong wall of resistance planted between them, obscuring the angel’s thoughts and emotions from him. 

Well this had to be corrected, and immediately. 

Crowley heaved a huge sigh, took one last, long drink from the bottle Aziraphale had left behind, and closed his eyes to gather his energy. He was going to get this right if it killed him.  
When he felt the force build up to sufficient levels in a ball of energy somewhere inside his ethereal body, he took a deep breath and PULLED with all his might and will.

The world around him stuttered to a halt, and everything went black.


	3. A Host of Bad Ideas, Replay #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley tries again, but Aziraphale changes the game. Sparks fly.

Crowley woke up the next morning to discover two things: one, the sun was in his eyes, which wasn’t supposed to happen in his dark and gloomy bedroom, and two, he still felt very badly about what he done to Aziraphale last night. Or, rather, had been about to do tonight. Or, rather, what he would have done later yesterday tonight… He gave up, defeated by the grammar of it. Time loops were confusing. No way around it.

The sun took first precedence. He snapped his fingers without even hopping out of bed first, already knowing what the problem was, and the faulty curtain rod flew back into place and healed itself.

He didn’t feel as much of a panicked need to check on things, this time, but he still glanced out the window to confirm the absence of flesh-eating zombies, then he picked up the phone and called Aziraphale. Better safe than sorry.

\--

Aziraphale woke up feeling oddly grumpy, which was an unusual experience. He felt like maybe he’d had an irritating dream, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to recall the details. He stretched a little, wondered why he felt like he had had too much to drink the night before when he knew he’d had a quiet evening at home, and then stumbled down to the kitchen to make himself a strong cup of tea. Tea fixed everything.

The phone rang as he was working on his second cup. He knew who it was. It was literally always Crowley. But old habits die hard, and he answered the phone professionally.

“A.Z. Fell Books. How may I help you?”

“It’s me,” Crowley said. “You know it’s me. How’re things?”

“Oh, just fine, a little cranky, but fine.” he said. “And you, my dear?”

“’m good,” the demon mumbled. “Be by later and I’ll bring you some munchies, ok? Late breakfast.”

“Sounds grand! See you then!”

Aziraphale returned the phone to its cradle, and with a sigh headed to his desk to begin his ledger work for the morning. Perhaps sorting out some nice, orderly numbers would make him feel better.

\--

He’d completely lost track of the time by the time the bell over the front door tinkled to announce the demon’s arrival. The angel sighed with relief and put the pen down, running a hand across his forehead to dispel a little bit of a headache before standing up to greet the demon.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley called amiably as he sauntered into the office. He held up a bag and waved it enticingly. “I brought croissants from the place you like. Got any alcohol? And don’t give me any of that ‘it’s too early in the day for that’ crap, either.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it! Let me see what’s around – I think I’ve got a nice Malbec…”

He headed off to the kitchen to check and soon returned with a bottle and two glasses. He was busying himself pouring when he felt Crowley’s eyes on him.

“Why are you staring?” he asked, meeting his gaze.

“You feeling all right, angel?” the demon asked. “You look a little… rough.”

Aziraphale sighed. “It’s the strangest thing. I woke up today feeling just a tad hung over, and I can’t imagine why! It’s not like I drank anything last night. Perhaps I’m just coming down with something.”

Crowley frowned. He hadn’t really thought about it, but he did, in fact, send Aziraphale back home with a large amount of alcohol in his system. Normally they’d both sober up before going to bed, but neither of them had had a chance to do so. Was Aziraphale’s corporation being affected by the reset of the time loop? He should have been reset to a fresh, clean copy of himself, but somehow the angel had retained the alcohol he’d drunk in his system. This was worrying.

Aziraphale waved a hand in front of Crowley’s face, startling him from his reverie. “Are you quite all right, my dear?” he asked. “Where did you go, just now?”

Crowley blinked. “Oh, sorry… got distracted. I hope you’re not sick! Maybe drink some water and take an aspirin or two, just in case.”

Aziraphale sipped delicately at his glass of Malbec and the two of them settled into easy conversation. The croissants definitely helped him start to feel more like his normal self, and by the time the bell tinkled for a second time a half hour later, he was mostly back to normal.

“Oh, good lord,” Aziraphale said bitterly. “Customers. Did I forget to turn the sign to closed?”

\--

Kevin came and played his part well, appearing suave and charming and ever-so-slightly flirty, and Crowley watched almost impatiently as they sat through the same conversations and the same touches and the same hints of sitting too close together. He was, he had to admit, a little bored already with this part of the loop. It was really the party that mattered. The party was where they kept screwing up.  
What he did notice this time around, though, was that Aziraphale seemed less hospitable than he had on previous loops. He’d mentioned feeling cranky today, but Crowley hadn’t taken that very seriously because he and Aziraphale defined cranky much differently. Cranky for the angel meant he might look crossly at his teacup if it wasn’t keeping his tea warm enough. Cranky for a demon might result in loss of life or limb, or both.

But the angel did seem to have less patience than usual for showing Kevin around, and he threw the tea tray together a little more hurriedly than he typically would. He almost glared a time or two. Crowley frowned, concerned. Was Aziraphale starting to remember things from their prior trips through this day? That would be, in a word, disastrous.

Eventually Kevin got up to leave, and as he walked to the door he stopped suddenly as if just struck by the thought of inviting the two of them to his friend’s party that night. Crowley watched Aziraphale open his mouth to deliver some kind of unusually harsh rebuttal, but he cut in before he could begin.

“Of course, we’ll come!” the demon said. “We’d love to. See you there around nine?”

Kevin gave him one last wink as he exited.

\--

Crowley headed home and pulled out his phone to text Kevin.

_Good work,_ he wrote. _See you at the party._

A second later, there was a ding for an incoming message.

_You bet boss. What do you want me to do, exactly?_

Crowley thought for a moment and then wrote back.

_I think no dancing this time. Handsy and flirty is fine, but I want to stay off the dance floor so we can keep him in sight._

_What do you mean, ‘this time’? Do you do this often?_

Crowley swore softly at his slip-up. If you only knew, he thought.

_Oh! I meant – never mind. Anyways, see you tonight. Wear something sexy._

_You bet. I hope you get what you want tonight, whoever that turns out to be._

He rolled his eyes. Actors. So full of themselves.

_\--_

_T_ he party was in full swing when they arrived, and they started the evening, at Aziraphale’s insistence, by checking out the canape offerings and loading up a plate with the choicest bits, then finding a place to sit and watch things unfolding around them. The townhome was immense, with a large front parlor that had been emptied out for dancing, a formal dining room and gorgeous kitchen, and a few other rooms on the main floor. Good music was playing, an enormous serve-yourself bar had been set up in the dining room, and people of all ages were milling about everywhere.

They had just begun playing one of their favorite games, making up backstories for interesting partygoers around them, when Kevin arrived and slung an arm affectionately around Crowley’s shoulders.

“Kevin!” Crowley cried, giving him a big smile and scooting over on the sofa they were occupying to make room. “Glad you made it. Have a seat!”

Oh wonderful, Aziraphale snarked quietly to himself. Kevin. Why did he dislike him so intensely?

Aziraphale watched as Kevin and Crowley moved from including him in their conversation to getting more and more wrapped up in each other. There was a slow but unmistakeable increase in the amount of touching going on. There were a LOT of compliments flying, always accompanied by a hand to the shoulder, a brush of the knees, even, once, the fixing of a problem which absolutely did not exist with Crowley’s hair that mostly involved sweeping it back out of his eyes. Aziraphale curled his hands into fists at that one, irritated. No one was supposed to touch Crowley like that. Why was Crowley letting him?

He stood up an interminable length of time later and went to get a few more nibbles, and when he came back, the sofa was empty. Turning in a circle, he found the two miscreants over by the windows, talking animatedly with a few other people. They didn’t even seem to notice he was gone, he thought. He stood there for a moment frowning, watching Kevin’s hand settle familiarly on Crowley’s lower back, and then made a derisive sound in the back of his throat.

It felt, he thought, strangely like he had been watching these two flirt for an eternity.

“That’s entirely enough of that,” he said crossly, straightening his shoulders. If Crowley was going to get all absorbed in some handsome newcomer, then he might as well try to find some entertaining company as well.

Aziraphale wandered aimlessly around the townhome, greeting other partygoers and having a drink or two, until he found himself in a spacious library full of couches and comfy chairs and with floor-to-ceiling shelves lining two of the four walls. Small groups of people were perched on various surfaces talking, and he eavesdropped casually while scanning the books on display. He was surprised at first when he found another person sitting quietly on the farthest side of the room, leafing idly through a book. A quick tendril of angelic influence told him this man loved food and reading, and he was rather attractive, to boot.

“Hello,” he said. “Mind if I sit down?”

\--

“Hey,” Crowley said a bit later. “Where did Aziraphale go?”

Kevin looked around. “I don’t know. That’s strange.”

“Let’s go find him,” Crowley said, heading off without waiting to see if Kevin followed. Kevin trailed behind him as they searched through the whole first floor.

“Should’ve known,” Crowley said quietly to Kevin as they stood just outside the doorway, looking in. “Of course he’s in the library.”

Aziraphale was curled up on one end of a freestanding, brown leather couch with an attractive middle-aged man, having an animated discussion and sipping wine they’d clearly liberated from somewhere. The angel laughed happily at something the man said and leaned in to lay a hand on his shoulder while making what must have been a somewhat risqué remark, judging from the reaction he got. They both giggled like they had a secret.

“What’s he _doing_?” Crowley muttered.

“Flirting, it looks like,” Kevin said, sounding amused. “What’s good for the goose…”

“Oh shut up, I’m neither a goose nor a gander, you idiot,” Crowley snapped, his eyes still locked on Aziraphale’s hand, which was now resting comfortably on the stranger’s arm.

Who the hell was this interloper entertaining his angel? He glared daggers at him as he looked him over from head to toe. He appeared to be in his middle thirties, with tawny skin and dark brown hair, and he wore a small pair of gold-framed glasses. He was dressed simply in a pale blue jumper and a pair of khakis. Not stylish. Looked more book-smart than anything else. Nerdy even.  
In other words, exactly Aziraphale’s type.

The angel leaned forward and poured them each a little more wine, then raised his glass in a toast. Crowley couldn’t make out the words, but he could see the delighted smile that the man wore as he clinked glasses and raised his glass for a sip.

That’s about enough of that, Crowley thought, as he stepped into the room.

“Angel!” he said jovially, leaning over the back of the couch between the two of them. “Was wondering where you’d gotten off to! Might’ve known you’d be in here with the books.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said, more polite than pleasant. “Meet Nathaniel! We were just talking about our favorite restaurants. Nathaniel is a food critic! Crowley is my, uh, friend.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. Of course, Nathaniel was a food critic.

Aziraphale, he noted, had not removed his hand from Nathaniel’s arm. The tosser.

“We were just discussing whether we ought to try dancing,” Aziraphale said, standing and smiling at Nathaniel. “What do you think?”

Crowley blinked. “You don’t dance.”

“Oh now,” Aziraphale said, clucking his tongue. “I do sometimes.”

“Such as when?”

“Oh, you know. Now and then.” Aziraphale gave him a very kind, friendly smile and then held a hand out to Nathaniel. “Shall we?”

Nathaniel looked between him and Crowley in confusion for a moment, then took the offered hand.

“I think we shall!” he said, as he followed Aziraphale back through the house to the dance area.

Crowley stayed stock still and sputtered as he watched them leave. “That unbelievable bastard,” he said.

Kevin, god help him, laughed. “You two are adorable,” he said. “I think he’s onto you, friend.”

“I’m not your friend,” Crowley snapped.

“I see someone’s in a bad mood,” Kevin said. “Losing control of your little game?”

Humans, Crowley thought, don’t have the bloody good sense God gave a goat. Nathaniel had clearly ignored a quite obvious warning to go off and dance with the angel, and Kevin here, Kevin was needling a demon who was already in quite a bad mood. Of course, the only reason he hadn’t run off screaming yet was because he didn’t actually KNOW that Crowley was a demon, but that was no excuse. Anyone in their right mind would have picked up on some kind of subtle vibration of hostile intent and backed the fuck off by now.

He considered, for just one single, satisfying moment, how it would feel to reveal his more demonic appearance to his companion, then let that thought go. Instead, he abruptly pulled a roll of notes out of his pants pocket, peeled off several large bills and passed them to Kevin.

“Party’s over,” he said bluntly. “I’ll take it from here. Go home.”

Kevin, perhaps finally encountering some tiny self-preservation instinct, pocketed the payment and left without further comment.

\--

Crowley stalked back into the front room and leaned against the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest, while he did his best to immolate Nathaniel with his gaze.

Aziraphale and Nathaniel paid him no mind. Instead, they made a ridiculous attempt at dancing, despite the fact that between the two of them, neither had enough rhythm to maintain a decent heart beat. Crowley scowled judgmentally at the two of them, rolling his eyes occasionally. They didn’t even seem to care that they looked like fools. Instead it looked quite a bit like they were having fun.

When the music changed to something slow and romantic, he watched them scoot closer together on the floor and watched Nathaniel wrap an arm around the angel’s waist, and that was when he realized he had more than had enough. He crossed the floor and stood menacingly directly behind Nathaniel.

“Excuse me,” he said abruptly, “I’m cutting in.”

Aziraphale gawked at him as Nathaniel stepped awkwardly and confusedly out of the way.

“I’m sorry, Nathaniel, I’ll find you later,” Aziraphale said, and Nathaniel nodded and walked off towards the bar.

Crowley took him by the wrist and headed determinedly towards the stairs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the angel squawked at him.

“Just finding somewhere quiet,” Crowley hissed, pulling him into the hallway and up the stairs to the first floor landing. The landing was spacious and contained artwork and a pair of wooden benches, with a plethora of doors arrayed around it. They were also, thankfully, alone.

Aziraphale pulled his wrist out of Crowley’s grasp and glared at him. “What on earth is the matter with you, Crowley?” he snapped. “Why are you yanking me around like some kind of caveman?”

“Because!” Crowley sputtered. “You’re hanging all over this person you just met. What do you even know about this Nathaniel character? You’ve known him for all of an hour and already you’re snogging him?”

Aziraphale barked out a harsh laugh. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you. Do you even hear yourself?”

Crowley rounded on him. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

Aziraphale gaped at him. Had Crowley actually managed to convince himself that he’d done nothing questionable all night? He certainly looked like he considered himself the innocent victim of massive injustice. Demons, he thought for what must be at least the hundredth time in the last hundred years, were extremely talented at finding endless ways to be infuriating.

“One word,” Aziraphale bit out. “Kevin! Or did you forget that you’ve been waving him in my face all day? I saw him with his hand on your bum, dearest.”

Crowley blinked for a moment, and Aziraphale got the impression that he had actually forgotten that part for a moment.

“Yeah, well,” he said. “That doesn’t count. He’s – he’s Kevin. He’s not Nathaniel with his little glasses and his pretentious food column and his stupid jumper. Shake a stick in London and you’ll hit ten food bloggers, Aziraphale. They’re as common as rabbits.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Very insightful, Crowley, I’m impressed. I’m surprised you haven’t been asked to join the debate team.”

Crowley bristled and straightened himself up in a way that made him look pointier and more snake-like than ever. “You want insightful? Here’s insightful for you. You’re being an arse.”

Aziraphale huffed and straightened his bow tie. “You’re ridiculous. I’m leaving.” He stepped to move around Crowley and make his way back down the stairs.

Crowley stepped in front of him and blocked him. “No, you aren’t, angel, because I’m leaving!” he yelled. “You don’t get to walk away -- I’m the one who’s walking away. Go on back downstairs and be with your little foodie friend, see if I care!”

“Well obviously you don’t care, do you?” Aziraphale snapped back.

“Obviously!”

Crowley brought a hand up, snapped upwards directly in front of Aziraphale’s eyes, and disappeared entirely. Back to Mayfair, Aziraphale assumed.

“Good lord,” he said, sitting down on one of the wooden benches. He studied the family paintings across from him, his eyes drawn particularly to one of what must have been the family matriarch, a stately woman in a black dress and pearls. Her eyes seemed to regard the angel with a mixture of humor and sympathy.

“I know, I know,” he said to her. “That was a frightful mess.”

He sighed and got up, feeling both irritated and ridiculous. He could already tell that they’d both behaved stupidly tonight. He knew there was no point in following Crowley home now; there was little chance the demon would answer his door in this mood, and if he did there would almost certainly be nothing but continued fighting and insults to follow. Better to let him sleep it off and try to have a more rational conversation about it tomorrow.

\--

Crowley materialized in his living room and picked up the first thing at hand – the television remote, as it turned out – and threw it at the wall.

“Blast it all to hell, bugger, damn it – “ Crowley shouted at the walls, which stubbornly refused to cower. “I always knew he was a little bit of a bastard but I never knew he could be THAT MUCH OF ONE!” He picked up a pillow and threw that too, then flopped down on the couch in a defeated posture.

Crowley sighed. He couldn’t keep it up, really, this sense of being the wronged party. Yes, the angel had made him quite angry, but he had been allowing Kevin to crawl all over him all night. Did he really have the right to go completely mental on the angel for having the temerity to flirt a little?

He groaned and leaned back enough to thwap his head against the wall with a satisfying thunk.

He was a fucking idiot. He’d set out to make the angel jealous, then gotten jealous himself and picked a huge fight. This, he reminded himself harshly, was not going to make the angel open up to him. Who gets jealous that their intended doesn’t notice you trying to make them jealous?

He had, he realized, completely fucked it up yet again.

He ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said to himself, feeling suddenly rather exhausted. “One more time. Just one more.”

He concentrated, finding it a little harder to pull the requisite amount of power this time, and then carefully shaped and patted that power in his ethereal core until it was compressed and vibrating with potential – and then he flung his arms up from the ground to the ceiling and bent time yet again.

Everything around him went dark.


	4. The End of Idiocy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out, but not before Aziraphale has a very, very good time.

Crowley woke up the next morning unsurprised to discover the sun was in his eyes AGAIN. What did surprise him was how bad he felt, physically, mentally, and emotionally. He was, in a word, completely exhausted. He did a quick reckoning and realized that by one count, at least, he had now been awake for over three full days running. Clearly resetting time in this loop wasn’t completely free of consequences. He left the angel with a hangover, for one, and now he was feeling like he might just have to collapse and sleep for a year.

Aziraphale. Fuck.

He jumped out of bed and threw on a robe without even bothering to fix the curtain rod. What was the point? And then he went out to the living room to think and, ultimately, check on the angel.

Last night had been a bloody disaster. He had to admit, this was not going at all the way he expected. At least the angel wouldn’t remember their fight. He felt grateful for that smallest of mercies.

\--

Aziraphale woke up from the midst of the most terrible dream. He had been dreaming about being at a party with Crowley and some other man, and watching the demon fall in love with someone else, which was heartbreaking, and then they had a terrible fight, and – oh, it was simply too awful to even think about. And it seemed so real! He could still picture the man’s face.

He stretched a little, wondered why he felt like he had had too much to drink the night before when he’d had a quiet evening at home, and then stumbled down to the kitchen to make himself a strong cup of tea. Tea fixed everything.

The phone rang a short while later.

“Angel?” Crowley said, sounding a bit tentative. “You all right?”

Aziraphale frowned at the receiver. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just checking in, you know,” Crowley said, too tired to be suave.

“Well to be honest, I had the most horrible dream,” Aziraphale said. “I dreamed that we were in this fancy house and we had the most enormous argument, and there were paintings of old women in fancy dress, and you stormed off – “ He paused. “Oh, it’s quite incoherent, isn’t it, when you try to tell someone else about a dream? Anyways, it was an interesting one. I’m quite glad to find we’re still on speaking terms, actually.”

“Hang on just a minute,” Crowley mumbled, and put the phone down on the countertop, then he spent several seconds swearing silently at the walls around him. Fucking hell. Aziraphale had remembered their argument as if it were a dream. What the bloody hell was going on?

“Sounds like a bad one, angel,” the demon said. “Definitely still speaking to you. I’m going to take a nap for a couple hours and then come by the shop, ok? Didn’t sleep all that well myself.”

“See you then!” Aziraphale said brightly.

…

Crowley was too tired to stop at the bakery, but he did manage to get himself to the bookstore later that morning. Aziraphale greeted him happily, clucked about how tired he looked, and set about miracling him a double-strength cappuccino to help get him back on his feet. Crowley leaned back on the couch and accepted the angel’s fussing happily, pleased to be looked after for a while.

They’d just finished having a long discussion about the state of restaurants in the neighborhood and which was the worst neighborhood in London when the bell over the door tinkled again as someone entered.

“Oh, good lord,” Aziraphale said bitterly. “Customers. Did I forget to turn the sign to closed?”

Crowley turned and cast a cursory look behind him. “Oh, not a customer angel,” he mumbled. “It’s one of mine, I mean, a friend of mine.”

Aziraphale followed the demon out towards the vestibule and stopped in shock. It was most definitely the man from his dream last night. What in heaven’s name did that mean?

Crowley introduced him to Kevin, and Kevin smiled politely and shook his hand without a hint of recognition.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was having the strongest and strangest sense of déjà vu he’d ever had in his life. He found himself shaking Kevin’s hand for a little longer than was socially acceptable and staring at him in a way that both Kevin and Crowley clearly found disconcerting. Startled back to his senses, he let go and stepped away, pushing himself into his “polite host” persona with a vengeance as a deep sense of suspicion started to form in his mind.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said firmly, “We aren’t going to entertain your friend without something to offer him. Be a dear and run down to the bakery on the next corner and get something delicious, would you?”

Crowley looked at him, confused. “You want me to go to the bakery, right now?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh, you know it won’t take long, just a few minutes. I’ll show Kevin around and we’ll make some tea, and by the time that’s done you’ll be back.” Crowley continued to stare at him, so the angel gave him a little pout that always worked. “Please? I’d be very grateful.”

Crowley looked at Kevin, who shrugged, and unable to think of a good reason not to comply, hurried out of the store. Aziraphale might have put him on the spot to do this the human way, but there was no reason to think he couldn’t use magic to bump his way to the front of the line.

\--

“So,” Aziraphale said to a puzzled but intrigued Kevin. “Let’s have a chat, shall we?”

He led the way to the office and motioned for Kevin to sit down on the couch, then pulled up an armchair to sit across from him.

“I recognize you, you see,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve seen you before. And I know there’s something going on here.”

Kevin raised his eyebrows but remained preternaturally calm. “Oh? I’m fairly sure we haven’t met.”

Aziraphale leaned forward and gave Kevin a slightly terrifying smile. “Tell me what that demon is up to and I will make it worth your while, I promise.”

Kevin took a moment to consider his options. Crowley was a lot of fun and paying him quite well for his time. But Aziraphale was quite interesting himself and, truly, he wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t have a predilection for seeking out trouble. And his gut instinct told him that this was going to prove to be quite entertaining.

“All right,” Kevin said, leaning forward. “Here’s the deal. Your friend out there hired me to pretend to be after him. To flirt with him, in front of you.”

Aziraphale blinked. “What on earth – why? Why would he do that?”

Kevin gave him a look and waited for the penny to drop.

Aziraphale gasped. “You can’t mean – he’s trying to force my hand?”

“Yes, he is. Rather dramatic, your friend.”

“But – but I’ve been doing everything in my power to show him I’m interested, and he’s made no moves towards me at all!” Aziraphale protested. “And this is his response? Instead of just saying something to me about how he feels, he decides to go with a completely juvenile level of subterfuge?”

Kevin laughed. “Well, yes he did. But in a sense, it’s rather flattering, no?”

Aziraphale leaned back and thought hard for a moment.

Crowley _wanted_ him. Crowley was an idiot, a complete and utter tosser, but Crowley _wanted_ him. It was the answer to the question he’d been ruminating over for months now, and it was a definite yes. So that was a good thing. He couldn’t help the smile that broke over his face just thinking about it, although it was quickly followed by a frown when he thought about what a stupid way the demon had chosen to go about it.

He sat up straight again. “What’s the overall plan he’s given you?”

Kevin, committed at this point, gave him the essential run down of the day.

Aziraphale drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair for a moment, then smiled a sharp, predatory smile. “Are you willing to have a little fun with him on my behalf? Help put the fear of God into him, so to speak?”

“Oh man, I was really hoping you were going to say that,” Kevin said.

“Whatever he’s paying you, I will double it,” Aziraphale said. “Here’s what I want you to do.”

\--

Crowley grumbled the whole way to the bakery, grumbled as he found the shop quite busy, growled when his attempts to get himself to the front of the line were completely thwarted by a middle aged lady who looked like she might hit him with her handbag if he didn’t back off, and finally pulled out his phone as he waited to text Kevin.

 _What’s happening there?_ he typed.

A suspiciously long pause followed, then finally his phone binged.

_Oh really nothing. We’re looking at first editions and talking about books._

_Really?_

_Definitely. Nothing to worry about, boss._

Somewhat relieved, Crowley put his phone away and shuffled forward a few feet in the endless line of people who needed pastries on a Saturday morning. He couldn’t help but feel that he’d somehow lost control of this situation.

\--

Twenty minutes later he finally made it back to the bookshop, a small pink box in hand with a variety of enticing pastries in it.

“Blazes, that bakery was crowded today,” Crowley announced as he entered the shop and made his way back to the office. “Every single bleeding resident of Soho decided they needed pastries—”

He stopped in surprise. Kevin and Aziraphale were sitting close to each other on the couch. Aziraphale had a book of black and white photographs laid open on his knees and Kevin was leaning in to take a look at something he was pointing out.

“—this morning,” he finished.

“Oh good! You’re back!” Aziraphale said with a happy smile. He closed the book and put it aside (Crowley caught a quick glimpse of the cover. Mapplethorpe? Really?) and cleared off some room on the small table in front of him, indicating that Crowley should put the box there, but he did not, as the demon expected, cede his seat on the couch to him. That was unusual.

Nonetheless, they spent another twenty minutes in easy conversation while everyone had a cup of tea and a pastry, and then Kevin announced it was time to be going.

“Oh dear, it was lovely to meet you,” Aziraphale said, taking Kevin’s hand in both of his for a more intimate handshake. “I really enjoyed talking art books with you! I hope we’ll see you again!”

Kevin made like he was just remembering something. “By the way, I’m co-hosting a party tonight at a flat in Chelsea,” Kevin said. “The owner is an old friend of mine and he’s recently sold the place, so we’re having a farewell bash before he hands it over. You should both come!”

“Sounds fun,” Crowley said. “Meet you there around ten?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” Aziraphale said brightly. “Why don’t you come by the shop around nine, Kevin, and we’ll all go together? Crowley can drive us, right dear?”

Crowley frowned. “All right,” he said. This was off script, but he supposed he could be flexible.

“Great! See you then!” Kevin winked at both of them and was gone in a flash.

“What a nice young man!” Aziraphale said fondly. “Thank you for introducing us.”

\--

Crowley went home and pondered the morning’s events. He had the distinct feeling that something was wrong, but he thought the best course was probably to see this through and see what came of it. But first he needed one more nap. He checked the time, quickly fumbled around to set an alarm on his phone, and tumbled face down onto the couch. Plenty of time to get another four or five hours of sleep in.

Hours later, he woke up to find it had gotten dark outside.

“Oh, bloody hell –” he shouted, grabbing his phone which had not made any of the alarm-type noises it had been instructed to, and checked to see what time it was. Ten minutes till nine. He was officially late. He sent a quick text to Aziraphale and hopped in the shower before miracling on his tightest pants and a nice black silk shirt with his usual gray scarf. Thirty minutes after waking up, he was out the door and into the Bentley, slamming his way towards Soho at ninety miles per hour.

The lights in the shop were aglow in the darkness, making the shop look homey and warm. Crowley paused to take it in for a moment – the bookshop made him feel things that his Mayfair flat never did. Happy. Cozy. Glad to be arriving there. He had a slight smile on his lips as he entered.

“Sorry I’m late!” he announced as the door tinkled behind him. “Blasted alarm didn’t go off. Probably set it for the year 2040 or something, you know how it –”

He came to a halt, mid-sentence, for the second time today.

Aziraphale and Kevin were canoodling on the couch. Not quite snogging, but not far from it. They were leaned up against each other, Aziraphale’s arm was slung casually around the back of Kevin’s shoulders, and they were talking quietly with their heads close together and hardly seemed to notice him for a second.

“Ahem!” Crowley said pointedly and was gratified by the way Aziraphale startled.

“Oh! Crowley!” he said, blushing a ridiculous shade of red. “I didn’t hear you come in. We were – “ he broke off, unsure how to finish that sentence.

“Yes, you were, weren’t you?” Crowley said, lips pursed. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What exactly is going on here?”

“Well, you see –” Kevin began.

“-- Shut up, you imbecile, I’m asking Aziraphale.”

“Crowley!” the angel admonished. “I’d ask you to keep a civil tongue in your head, please. Especially with my new… uh, friend.”

“You’re new uh-friend?” Crowley repeated incredulously.

Aziraphale blushed again and wrung his hands in front of himself. “Well, you see, it’s the oddest thing – but when Kevin first walked into the shop today, I just had this feeling that I’ve only read about in lurid stories. You know that feeling where you just feel like you already know someone? Like déjà vu but better?”

He stopped and looked at Kevin, who looked back adoringly.

“We just seemed to have had an instant connection, Crowley!” He looked concerned but also very, very happy. “I hope you can understand and be happy for us.”

Crowley felt like his spirit had dissociated entirely from his body and was floating up around the ceiling somewhere, watching as his hands and feet went numb and his ears filled up with static. Aziraphale… his Aziraphale … thought he was in love with this complete buffoon?

This. Could. Not. Be. Borne.

“ANGEL!” Crowley shouted. “He’s a charlatan! A complete fraud!”

Aziraphale looked intensely disapproving and put a hand on Kevin’s knee, pausing for a second to look fondly at the young man. “I know you’re upset, dear, but there’s no reason to cast aspersions on his lovely character.”

Kevin smiled smugly at Crowley and leaned in to place his head against the angel’s shoulder. Crowley made a mental note to kill him later. First, he had to set Aziraphale straight, no matter the consequences. 

“When I say he’s a fraud, angel, I mean a fraud,” he snapped. “I hired him. To come hang all over me and make you jealous. He’s an actor! We didn’t meet at a bar. I am literally paying him money to mess with you.”

Intense and instant silence as Aziraphale stared uncomprehendingly at Crowley.

“No, you didn’t, you would never…” he said slowly. He looked at Kevin, who had gone pale, and then back at Crowley, who looked like he was about to bite the head off someone. The demon’s chest was rising and falling rapidly and his eyes were sparking.

“You’re serious,” Aziraphale said.

“As a heart attack.”

Aziraphale jumped to his feet and took two steps towards the demon, raising a hand to point at him. “I can’t believe you would do such a thing!” And then he stopped, whirling around to point at Kevin instead. “And you! Is this true? Are you just – just – toying with me? Playing me for a fool?” Kevin looked intensely intimidated. “Answer me, you miscreant!”

Kevin dropped his eyes and nodded quietly. “It’s true. He paid me.”

Aziraphale sucked in an outraged breath and suddenly, to Crowley’s ethereal senses, he was bristling with power, his eyes lit with the intense, arctic blue that Crowley knew was always, always associated with the angel gathering and curling his angelic power in preparation for some kind of outpouring.

“I will not be made a fool of by some hired actor!” Aziraphale shouted, raising both hands towards Kevin. His hands were crackling with energy that only Crowley could perceive, but Kevin clearly felt the threat involved as he shrunk back. “You cannot do this!”

 _Holy shit,_ Crowley thought through his haze of jealousy and anger. _Aziraphale is going to fucking smite the human!_ As satisfying as it would be to watch, he couldn’t let the angel kill him; Aziraphale would be overcome with guilt and remorse the second it was over. He would suffer. It would most likely destroy him.

Without really thinking it through, Crowley threw himself between Aziraphale and Kevin, turning to face the angel with both hands held upright.

“Aziraphale, STOP!” he shouted. “You can’t do this!” Aziraphale blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “It’s me you’re mad at, not him! Smite me if you have to! Let the human go!”

Time seemed to freeze for a long, interminable moment. Crowley was aware of every beat of his heart, every beat of Kevin’s heart behind him, and every tiny, fraction of a movement in Aziraphale’s frame in front of him.

For a long, long moment, nothing happened.

And then Aziraphale lowered his hands and smiled.

Smiled.

At him.

He sat down contentedly in the chair behind him and folded his hands peacefully in his lap.

“Well,” he said, “now that we’ve got that all settled.”

Crowley stared. He stared some more. What was happening?

He turned and looked at Kevin behind him, who smiled at him in a manner that was both embarrassed and amused. He turned and looked at the angel, who continued to look rather pleased with himself. 

“You – “ he said, unable to even finish a thought for the moment. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You’re fucking with me. You’re fucking with me! You are FUCKING with me, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale smiled benignly. “Perhaps,” he said. “You must admit you had it coming, though.”

Crowley turned to Kevin. “You double crossed me?”

Kevin shrugged. “He made me a much better offer, boss,” he said. “I have bills to pay.”

Aziraphale, prudently sensing that perhaps Kevin’s time in this affair should come to a close, smiled at Kevin. “Perhaps you should be leaving us now, my dear,” he said kindly. “Head off to that party you’re co-hosting. I think Anthony and I have some talking to do.”

Kevin took the hint and headed out into the night. 

Crowley sat down exactly where he was, right smack on the floor, and thunked his head back against the arm of the couch. He was still trying to take in the magnitude of how he had just been played.

“I’m impressed, angel,” he said finally. “That was some seriously award-winning acting, from both of you. Perhaps Kevin might have what it takes to make it on the stage after all.”

Aziraphale tutted. “He’s a very talented young man.”

Crowley looked up at him. “You’re not really interested in him, are you?”

Aziraphale frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

The angel watched him closely and appeared to be waiting for something. Crowley had the strong impression that that something might be an apology. Which he was certainly owed. But Crowley was also trying hard to figure out exactly how much Aziraphale had figured out about the whole thing. Did he know about the time loops as well as the subterfuge about Kevin? Or just about him hiring the actor? Did he have a full view of the entire depth and breadth of Crowley’s fuck up here, or just about part of it?

He took a deep breath and looked up. “So,” he said casually. “How did you figure it out?”

Aziraphale raised one eyebrow. “I dreamed about him last night. When he walked in, I instantly recognized him and knew that something was up. Some kind of precognition, perhaps?”

Crowley sighed. He didn’t know about the loop.

“And so, you sent me off to get pastries so you could interrogate the truth out of him.”

“That’s about the shape of it, yes.”

“And you convinced him to turn this back around on me with that little display.”

“I doubled your fee,” Aziraphale said with a slight smile. “Asked him to cozy up with me and then follow my lead. Told him there might be some dramatics and to just play along.”

Crowley barked out a mirthless laugh in spite of himself. “He certainly did that. Kudos to Kevin on that one.”

“So,” the angel said coolly. “Are you going to tell me what possessed you to do this?”

“Idiocy?” Crowley offered. Aziraphale continued to stare neutrally at him. “I’m sorry, angel. I just – I’ve been so frustrated lately because we’re still stuck. Stuck in place. The apocalypse came and went and we’re on our own side and no one’s watching – or if they are, they’re too afraid to do anything about it – and we’re still just limping along being friends.”

“You don’t want to be my friend?”

“Of course I want to be your friend,” Crowley moaned. “I just want to be your friend and some other things too.”

“Such as?”

Crowley sighed. He was clearly being punished. He closed his eyes for courage. “I have FEELINGS for you, angel,” he blurted, abandoning the tattered remains of his dignity all together. “Have forever. Been trying to show you that. But no matter what I did, nothing changed. So I did some research about how to spur someone on, and decided maybe having a rival would do something to get you moving. Which I realize now was just stupid.”

He heard Aziraphale standing up from his chair and coming around to sit behind him on the couch. There was a moment’s pause and then Crowley felt a soft hand in his hair.

“Demon,” Aziraphale said quietly. “Turn around.”

Crowley took a moment to calculate the percentages of what might happen next. He laid the chances of turning around and being mildly smited at approximately 60%, and the chances of something much nicer happening at about 40%. Either way, he didn’t really have a choice, so he opened his eyes and scooted around to face the angel. Aziraphale patted the seat next to him, and Crowley tried to make his limbs behave somewhat normally as he clambered up onto the couch. 

“Crowley,” the angel said softly and affectionately, “how can someone as clever as you be so, so stupid?”

And with that, he leaned in and kissed him.

Aziraphale.

Was kissing him.

Aziraphale was kissing him.

Crowley broke out of his reverie just enough to realize he should be doing something back instead of just sitting there in shock. He recovered himself and kissed back for a second or two, before the angel broke contact and pulled back.

“Ngk,” the demon said intelligently.

Aziraphale beamed at him and laid a hand on his cheek. “I should be quite angry at you, my dear,” he said gently, “but I must confess I’ve been frustrated too, trying to figure out how to get you to take a step forward I was too intimidated to take myself.”

Crowley frowned. Aziraphale was intimidated?

“I can’t say I’m very fond of your methods,” the angel continued, “but I’m glad you got us there.”

Crowley, taking the opportunity while it was available to him, leaned in and kissed Aziraphale again, softly and fervently. The angel whimpered slightly and kissed back with great enthusiasm and tenderness.

“Angel,” Crowley said, pulling back reluctantly. “There’s more to the story. I can’t let you go forward until I tell you. You don’t know all of it yet.”

Aziraphale sat back and looked at him. “More?” he said. “What do you mean more?”

“Well,” Crowley said, “it’s possible I may have been even more of an idiot than you’re already currently aware of.”

Aziraphale settled back into the couch cushions and took Crowley’s hand in his. “Then I suggest you tell me everything.”

Crowley took a moment to gather his thoughts, then took a deep breath. “Well, you see,” he said. “I had this whole plan –”

They were both interrupted by a sound somewhat like a chime.

“Whuzzat?” Crowley said, irritated at being interrupted.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, jumping up from the couch and looking worried. “It’s a call. Incoming call.”

“So answer it?”

“Not on the phone, Crowley. From Upstairs!” Aziraphale sounded slightly frantic. “I have to take this. You should hide.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said. “They know, remember? They know we’re – fraternizing.”

“It’s not fraternizing –”

“You know what I mean.” Crowley stood up and took Aziraphale’s hand. “We’ll answer it together.”

Aziraphale turned to look at him, relief bleeding over his features, and then they headed out into the center of the shop to face this together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I told you the idiocy would end soon. :) And who knew that Aziraphale was such a good actor, right? 
> 
> One more short chapter and then we are done! Thank you so much for all of your comments so far!


	5. Epilogue: The Whole Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crowley has to explain. In great detail.

Aziraphale gave Crowley’s hand one last squeeze, then set about rolling back the rug to reveal the sigil underneath. The Metatron, of course, could appear at will if he really needed to speak to anyone, but in general Heaven tried to follow official protocol as much as possible, and that meant that if a Principality possessed a communication sigil, the powers that be would attempt to use it.

Luckily, one didn’t have to light the candles and say the correct chants to accept a call, as one did to place a call to Heaven. Instead, when the rug was rolled away, the sigil was already lit up and flickering in time with the chiming sound, indicating that a call was waiting to be received.

Aziraphale indicated for Crowley to stand slightly out of sight between two of the stacks, then he stepped forward and touched a spot on the outer edge of the sigil, and the face of the Metatron immediately appeared before them in a golden haze.

**Principality Aziraphale** , the large head said. **Greetings from the Almighty.**

“And – and greetings to you, sir,” Aziraphale said politely, struggling to remember exact angelic protocol for how one addressed the Metatron. “To what do I owe the honor?”

**The Almighty wishes you to know that a problem has arisen in your area of guardianship. While we are aware that you no longer work for us, so to speak, resolving this lies in both of our mutual interests.**

“What kind of a problem, your eminence?” He couldn’t remember the honorifics, so he decided to try them all.

**The Almighty wishes you to know that someone in your city has been bending the laws of time in a most alarming fashion, and that it is having dire effects on the overall shape of reality.**

Aziraphale sucked in a breath. He could feel Crowley stiffen behind him and he suddenly had the most terrible, awful idea that he knew what this might be about.

“That sounds – unfortunate,” Aziraphale said. “What would you like me to do, your honor?”

**The powers of Heaven have sensed the disturbances but have been unable to locate their origin other than to note that they are occurring in London. We wish for you to locate the source and ensure that it is neutralized before any further alterations to the fabric of reality can be made. We will repair the damage from there, but no further modifications to time can occur. This is of the utmost importance, Principality.**

Aziraphale nodded solemnly. “I understand, your grace. I will get to work on it at once.”

**The Almighty is grateful for your help, Principality Aziraphale. Do report back when you’ve located the source and completed your mission. Time is of the utmost urgency, of course. Do not dawdle.**

“Rest assured that I will not,” Aziraphale replied, and just like that, the transmission ended.

The air in the bookshop smelled slightly of ozone. Aziraphale raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed it, hard. He could tell he was about to be rather displeased.

He turned around to where he’d hidden the demon and sighed.

“What in the name of all that’s good and holy have you done?”

\--

Crowley would remember that afternoon for centuries. Aziraphale didn’t shout at him, he didn’t glower, he didn’t thunder. He didn’t break up with him, which would almost have been an amusing thought since they’d been dating all of twenty minutes by this point, and he didn’t threaten the demon with heavenly wrath. What he did do was make the demon sit down and Explain Himself. Over and over. In great detail. Every excruciating component of his idiotic plan, every embarrassing fact of what he had and hadn’t done to the angel, every exhausting data point of what he himself had done with Kevin, laid out bare before a judgmental angel who was looking disappointed in him.

It was one of the worst two hour stretches of his entire, very long life.

And then the angel straightened up, thought for a moment, and then folded his hands on his stomach and said, not unkindly, “No, I don’t think I’ve quite got it yet. Let’s go back to the time you were dancing. Which one of my two hangovers that I wasn’t aware of did this event proceed? And what were you hoping to achieve with Kevin’s hand on your bum?”

“Angel, we’ve been over it six thousand times already,” Crowley groaned. “I was trying to make you jealous. Because I’m an idiot. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Well you see,” Aziraphale said calmly, “it’s just that I don’t have any _memories_ of these events in my head, so I have to make sure I’ve got it all straight by hearing about it from you. Now, what song was playing?”

Crowley sighed and did his best to recall each and every insignificant little piece of minutia the angel asked about. He was being punished. He was aware of that. He tried to keep in mind that he was lucky the angel was still even speaking to him, and he tried to cooperate.

Finally, finally, the angel sat back and looked – well “satisfied” was definitely the wrong word, but at least, Crowley thought, he looked tired of the interrogation game.

“Are you done?” Crowley asked.

“I’m done,” Aziraphale said, placidly. He came over to sit next to him on the couch and Crowley tentatively angled himself around towards him. The angel took a deep breath and let it out, and then reached out to pull him into a rather crushing hug. “And if you ever, ever mess with my memories or my timeline again, dearest, you’re going to be spending rather a long time alone on Alpha Centauri. Do you understand me?”

Crowley tried to alter his position just slightly to move away from a coat button which was trying to bore its way into his nasal cavity, but found he really and truly couldn’t move. He had been interrogated, and now he was apparently being hugged to death. Truly, this day would never end, would it?

“That was a question, dearest,” Aziraphale said serenely. “It’s considered polite to answer when you’re asked a question.”

Crowley blew out a breath against the rough tweed of the angel’s jacket. “I understand. ‘m really sorry, angel.”

Aziraphale let up on the death grip and patted his lapels back into place, then pulled Crowley more gently to lean on his shoulder.

“Good, then,” he said. “I forgive you. And with that, I think we’re done discussing this unfortunate series of circumstances. How about we move onto something more pleasant?”

Crowley swallowed, still feeling a little tender from the gentle but incredibly thorough dressing down he felt like he had just received. “Such as what?”

“Such as, where should we go on our first official date?”

Crowley blinked, trying to keep up. “Ngk?”

Aziraphale smiled and leaned in to kiss him on the forehead. “Well, before we were so rudely interrupted by the Metatron, we had our first real kiss and declared our feelings to each other. It only seems reasonable that the next thing we go out and do together will be our first official date. You know I’m not one to let an occasion like that pass by unnoticed. What would you like to do, my dear?”

Crowley took a moment to absorb that. Date? Dating didn’t feel like the right word for what they were doing; they had been playing at this for nearly six thousand years. They weren’t teenagers fumbling on the back seat of a car, for heaven’s sake. And yet, still, the idea filled him with such a warm glow that he could hardly believe he wasn’t illuminating the room. A date with his angel where he didn’t have to pretend not to be feeling all of the things he was always feeling and had always been trying to ignore or force under the surface or question? It sounded divine.

“Maybe, uh, go for a drive?” he said finally. “Have a picnic?”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “That sounds lovely my dear, but it’s already dark and I think we need to do something tonight to mark the better portions of the day.”

Crowley smiled, feeling a little more self-assured. If Aziraphale wanted to go out and celebrate, he must really have forgiven him. “It sounds like you have something in mind,” he said.

“Well,” the angel said, “I do believe that dinner at the Ritz might be an appropriate way to begin.”

Crowley grinned and snapped his fingers. “I believe a romantic table for two just became available.”

Aziraphale kissed him approvingly, then kissed him again for extra good measure. Then he stood up and extended a hand to the demon, who actually blushed the tiniest bit as he reached up to accept it.

“Shall we?” the angel said.

Oh, we shall. We shall, and we shall, and we shall, the demon thought to himself, as he followed his always surprising, breathtaking, fearsome love out of the shop and onto the streets of London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this story! I hope you've enjoyed my little time loop experiment. And I love writing Aziraphale being a bastard so, so much. He's truly someone you just would never want to seriously cross, even if he doesn't yell at you. :)
> 
> Thank you for all of your comments! You keep me going!


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